


Shemlan Ma Abelas

by d20sapphire



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d20sapphire/pseuds/d20sapphire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Salmae continues her plan for redeeming Solas by reuniting with a woman of the Chantry who witnessed the attack of her clan at Wycome. </p><p>This is a continuation of the story told in El Ethara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shemlan Ma Abelas

Salmae was weary from being away for weeks from Skyhold. She hadn’t finished everything she hoped--there were still some Venatori holdouts in the Western Approach--but she need to get back. She figured Cullen and Leliana’s agents could fortify the repurposed fortress on their own. Part of her was also ready for rest in a bed. Never before the Inquisition had she been so spoiled, but now she found herself missing her luxurious sleeping arrangements. They weren’t as elaborate as she experienced in Orlais, she though, so one shouldn’t feel too guilty.

  
She heard Blackwall yell back to here, “Inquisitor, may I suggest you pick up the pace? We’ve almost made it.”

  
She perked up to see that her fellow adventurers were a couple yards ahead on the bridge to Skyhold. Her daydreaming must have distracted her. She quickened her pace to catch up with everyone else as Blackwall stood and waited for her. As she met up to him they walked together, with Sera skipping around Dorian ahead while the two childishly teased each other. She was glad to see everyone in good spirits after the long time away. Salmae saw the guards waiting for them at the entrance to the courtyard, standing attention. She smiled. Although weary, she was ready to be welcomed home.

  
Blackwall looked to her. “Looking forward to being back then?”

  
She nodded. “This was a long excursion. I’m glad for it to be over.”

  
“I as well. The work needed to be done, but it’s good to know that some of it is over.”

  
“At least you’ll actually get some rest. I’ll have to report back and see who awaits to be graced by the Herald of Andraste.”

  
“More nobles come to gawk at your glory?”

  
She laughed and looked at her hand. “It’s as easy as having this mark on your palm.”

  
Blackwall scoffed. “Maker’s breath, I can tell that isn’t easy.”

  
She shrugged. “It’s not. But it has to be done.”

  
“You’re a strong woman to keep it up this long.”

  
The soldiers saluted as they approached. Salmae looked them over as she responded to Blackwall. “There are a lot of people depending me to be strong. If I’m not, all this could fall.”

  
“I didn’t mean to remind you of your burden, Inquisitor.”

  
“Believe me, something else would have.”

As they finally entered the courtyard, Salmae felt the prospect of bed was sounding more appealing. She saw Sera stick her tongue out at Dorian before heading over to the tavern. Dorian joined Blackwall and Salmae up the stairs to the throne room.

  
“Honestly, you’d think that woman would at least try to think of better insults,” he complained. “Did you two see when she threatened to moon me just now?”

  
Salmae laughed. “How many times has she actually done it?”

  
“Five at last count, which is five times too many if you ask me.”

  
Blackwall grinned. “She is a scamper, that one.”

  
Dorian scoffed. “Well she can be a scamper somewhere else for a while. I’m going to have to retire to the library to remember what civilized company is again.”

  
They all shared a light laugh before entering the throne room. Salmae was immediately greeted by a young elf with eagerness in her step, hands immediately extended. Salmae handed the woman her staff and gear as Blackwall and Dorian both headed toward the library. For a moment Salmae considered heading that direction as well, before Leliana approached her with a smile.

  
“Inquisitor, how was the trip?”

  
Salmae motioned the elf woman off, who headed toward her quarters with the gear. “I don’t know if trip is the right word. It’s not like I had a chance to relax.”

  
“I hope you at least were able to accomplish much then?”

  
“We did, small but necessary steps. Were you waiting for my report?”

  
“I was, and making sure you headed straight there. Afterwards, there is a woman who wishes to speak with you.”

  
Salmae raised her brow. “May I ask who?”

  
“It’s better if you report your findings first, then I’ll lead you to her.”

  
“Should I be feeling anxious about this?”

  
“Not as much as she is.”

 

 

The meeting in the war room went quickly, to Cullen’s satisfaction. As they all walked out Leliana surprised Salmae by taking her arm. It was a gentle hold as she lead her out, but Leliana was rarely even this forceful with the Inquisitor.

  
“I suppose this is rather important then,” Salmae guessed.

  
“The woman I mentioned. She’s awaiting you in the garden. She wished to see you as soon as possible.”

  
“She’s that important? I haven’t even asked Josephine if anyone was waiting for me today.”

“I already explained to Josie. She understands. I’ll explain once we’re in the courtyard. Delaying will not make this any easier.”

  
They walked out of the hallway, through the throne room, and through the room where Solas was typically found studying, when he wasn’t busy with a mural elsewhere. They passed him sifting through a pile of books at his table. He looked up to them and almost called out to Salmae, but then looked perplexed by the spymaster leading her through the room. Salmae looked to him and shrugged before turning toward the garden door, following Leliana through. Soon she found herself in front of the door where the small shrine to Andraste stood. They finally stopped.

  
Leliana explained, “The woman inside believes the Maker required this trip of her. That he spoke to her. I remember when the Maker asked much of me, to travel far and risk much. This is why I ask you to hear every word she has to say to you, for it comes from the most holiest and honest places within her. Please promise me you will listen, no matter how difficult.”

  
Salmae looked toward the door and back to Leliana. “You want me to make this promise but you don’t want to tell me why she is here.”

  
“It is not my story to tell.”

  
“Why is it vital that I listen to her?”

  
Leliana frowned a bit. “I will admit that seeing this as vital is a matter of perspective. However, I hope you understand that this will hopefully lift a burden from both of you. And as I mentioned, I understand when the Maker asks much of you. I don’t want you to respond against your wishes or nature. To be ungenuine would not allow this woman to grow the way the Maker wishes her to. However, to listen to everything she has to say would help both of you.”

  
Salmae sighed. “I will try my best.” She finally turned and enter the alcove to see a mousy-haired woman knelt in prayer in front of the Andraste statue and candles, back to the doorway.

  
She hear Leliana follow and announce, “Sister Rebecca, the Inquisitor has agreed to see you.”

  
The woman stood up and turned, the red and white robes seeming to weigh her down. Her face seemed unsettlingly pale, dotted with freckles under her eyes. She took light purposeful steps toward Salmae. “Herald of Andraste.” Her words were a balance of concern and awe.

  
Salmae nodded. “I’ve been called that.” She heard Leliana back away from the room.

  
Sister Rebecca looked Salmae over, one of the few humans that was shorter than her, and then dropped to her knees. “Herald, I ask for your mercy, as Hessarian gave to Andraste on the stake.”

  
Salmae perked up. From what little she knew of human beliefs, she understood this to be serious. “What is it? Why ask for mercy?”

  
“I have trespassed against you, and hence have trespassed against the the beloved wife of the Maker! Please grant me forgiveness.”

  
Salmae squatted down. “No need to grovel. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  
Rebecca looked to her with a growing frown. “No one told you before?”

  
“Leliana said it was your story to tell.”

  
The sister took in a deep breath. “She speaks the truth, as will I. I am afraid that when I reveal where I call home, you will understand my purpose and why the Maker demanded I come to you.”

  
“Where is your home?”

  
“I come from Wycome.”

  
Salmae squinted, she hadn’t thought about Wycome in some time since… her eyes widened and she stood up straight as a board. Every feeling from when she heard the gruesome news came rushing back.

  
This sister had been there when the Lavellan clan was attacked.

  
Rebecca began to explain herself, still kneeling in front of Salmae. “Dear Herald, guided by Andraste through the Fade to close the Breach, I beg you to forgive me. My Revered Mother told me to follow my fellow citizens to protect them with the divinity that flowed through me that night. Before I committed myself to the Chantry I had learned how to use a blade with some skill. I called out the Chant of Light so that the Maker could guide me, and as we rushed over the hill and I saw what the Duke had commanded of my brethren in arms, I heard the Maker tell me to stand down. In shock I stood as I saw what I learned to be your people…” she let out a tear and swallowed her regret. “I am sorry, Herald. I failed you. I failed your people. At night I hear the terror as they all fought us and overwhelmed them. I had never seen such carnage in my life, I had never been called to battle before. Had I the experience or strength, I would’ve tried my best to have my people heed the Maker’s wishes, but they were all deaf to his call. Please, I beg for your forgiveness, as humbly as I can. I am not deserving to stand in your presence, yet I ask for you to grant me that which I do not deserve.”

  
Salmae’s felt her breathing become rapid, and she stepped away. She was in a haze of emotions that she knew better than to steer in public. She looked onto the woman, trying her best to stay silent as her face grew hot and her stomach clenched. As she reached the door, she looked Rebecca in the eye as she stammered, “I.. I-I couldn’t--”

  
She turned and walked through the garden back from where she came, once again feeling like she wasn’t really there, at the pace she had when she heard that her clan was gone. She clutched her collarbone as she tried to figure out what she was choking on. She knew and at the same time she didn’t.

  
Again she reached the room where Solas studied. He immediately noticed her and stood up from his chair. Salmae stopped and looked to him.

  
It was either find comfort now, or have Cole force his best amalgamation of it later. She walked toward the table, and took a seat.

  
Solas took a seat next to her as Leliana followed behind. She stopped seeing the two at the table. Salmae didn’t look up, but Solas gave Leliana a glare.

  
The spymaster merely stated, “Sister Rebecca will await your reply, Inquisitor.” With that she went to the stairs and up.

  
Salmae finally let her own tears down. She felt Solas put a hand on her back cautiously, and offer, “Do you wish to talk here?”

  
She kept a stare forward as lay her hands flat across the table. “I should sit for a moment.”

  
Solas nodded and watched over her, rubbing her back. “Then I shall be here.”

 

 

It took her a good hour before Salmae asked Solas to follow her up to her quarters. She no longer felt it was improper. The two always exchanged knowing glances to each other when in the same room. She didn’t wish to make it obvious when she was around Skyhold, considering her prominence and station. But she didn’t wish them to be a secret either, so when she was ready she had Solas follow her directly through her door, and up the stairs to her room. At least if the rest of the Inquisition were to gossip, it would be of a happy rumor and not of what she had dwelling on in her head like a stone at the bottom of a rushing river.

  
They made it to the top, where the afternoon sun beamed through. Salmae sat down slowly on the couch, looking toward the balcony, leaning back and and taking a deep breath in and out. Solas measuredly sat next to her, and offered an open hand which she slowly took, interlacing fingers and clenching tight. She focused on breathing for a few moments, trying not to sob, as Solas worriedly watched her over. As always, he was patient for her to finally speak.

  
“Leliana introduced me to a Chantry sister that was at Wycome.”

  
He tilted his head and squinted. “At Wycome when?”

  
She gave him a look of sorrow.

  
He instantly remembered. His tone was quiet but fierce. “Why does she dare speak to you?”

  
She was tired, her voice gentle. “She wanted me to forgive her.”

  
“How could you?”

  
“I haven’t yet.”

  
“Why should you forgive her?”

  
She sighed. “From her telling, she says she did not lay a hand on any of my clan.”

  
“Do you believe her?”

  
“I… hadn’t considered she was lying.”

  
“Why not? She is a stranger to you, is she not?”

  
She perked up. “Solas, your anger…” She had no counter to that. It was making her more upset, but she couldn’t think of a reason to not be mad at the situation.

  
He clenched his lips and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. It is still suspicious that she came all this way to ask for forgiveness when she did not participate in the crime.”

  
“She is a devout follower of the Maker, and I’m the Herald of Andraste, at least she believes that.” She sat herself up for a bit, and then leaned onto his shoulder. “If only the Creators could see this. How blasphemous this would be if Fen’Harel hadn’t locked them away.”

  
She noticed that he was silent for longer than she expected, before he put a hand on her back and took in a long breath. “That is… a worrying thing to ponder, isn’t it?” She felt him adjust in his seat stiffly, before he added. “However, if they stay locked up, it is not much a matter for you to dwell on, is it?”

  
She shrugged. “No.” There was a pause before she added, “I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know what?”

“If I can forgive anyone there now.”

  
They both contemplated in silence. Solas held her a little tighter as he thought, and she closed her eyes. She could feel the heat in her eyes building up again, but she didn’t want to to sob. She didn’t want to rile Solas up. She remembered when they went to find his friend, the Spirit of Wisdom. She didn’t want to see him anywhere near that state again on her account. Then again, she could’ve taken that path of pain herself, when she heard what had happened, and that the people of Wycome were responsible. She had thought of fixing it all.

  
It is strange how the mind strings together things that seemed completely disconnected. She slowly sat up and looked to him. “Did you move the book that was on my desk?”

  
Solas moved his hand to her waist and kept a straight face. “You haven’t been here for several weeks. What book would be left on your desk?”

  
“The one I had there a couple days before I left. I was looking at it.”

  
“Ah, that book. Yes, I did move it.”

  
“Did you need it?”

  
“No.”

  
Salmae contorted her face in confusion. “Then… why did you move it?”

  
“I feared you would use it.”

  
She sat up straighter and away from him, but looked him directly in the eye. “That was not fair.”

  
“Why not? Even what little information you could glean from those texts wouldn’t have benefited you. You’ve seen what that magic has done.”

  
“But if I could go back and warn them and--”

  
“You told me of what you experienced when you went forward in time to defeat Alexius. I remember what you told us at Haven after Redcliffe. How is that not enough to deter you otherwise?”

  
She could hear both of them raising their voices. “What would you do if you lost everyone you loved?”

  
Solas sharply stood up and looked away from her. He crossed his arms and stood solid in place.

  
Salmae didn’t realize she had hit a nerve. She froze and watched him stew for a moment, before whispering, “Ir abelas.”

  
He relaxed his shoulders but still faced away as he answered. “Through the Fade, I’ve seen how much one can lose, how much that was lost to history, because one person believed that correcting it would solve every issue. From what I have witnessed, that is never true.” He turned to her with a mournful look that gave her a chill. “Please, vhenan, whatever you may think will help you overcome your grief, do not think you know what is merely a simple change when others may suffer. That is how the gravest mistakes are made.”

  
She took her time to stand up and then walk over to him. He looked as though he could shed his own tear, but she had never seen him do so. It didn't mean she couldn’t internalize this sadness he expressed so strongly. It made it easier for her to finally let go of her own, and let herself weep audibly. He rushed over to her and held her, and she fell into him with a desperateness she hadn’t realized lingered in her.

  
“Why didn’t I save them?” She clinged tight.

  
“Because sometimes, you cannot save everyone, no matter how you may try to do so.” He helped her steady, keeping her leaning on his chest. “You can find another way to honor them. You can find another way to make sure they are not forgotten.” He sounded desperate. He wrapped his arms around her tight.

  
She continued to weep. “How do I forgive myself?”

  
He shook his head. “I cannot answer that for you. The path to forgiveness is ever changing. No circumstance takes you the same place.” He took in a deep breath. “You will find what it is, but the burden you put upon yourself in the hope of saving your clan is not one I wish upon you. Had I known those books were in the library, I would have removed them myself.”

  
She let herself cry a little longer, but did her best to calm herself. Despite having only Solas seen her in that state, she didn’t like being this vulnerable in Skyhold. Especially during the day when someone would call on her. With her clan now gone, she didn’t know if she would ever find a place to be vulnerable again. Except in Solas’ arms.

  
He tilted her head up and looked to her, then taking his fingers and tracing her valleslin. “With your hopes of fairness and justice, it is appropriate you carry the markings of Mythal on your face.”

  
“My keeper made the suggestion. She said I was always fair when listening to others. I understood why they had their reasons.”

  
Solas smiled. “It explains why you continue to amaze me. Maybe I spoke too harshly of this chantry sister. Your ability to empathize may make you better suited to understand her motives. I hope my anger at the opening of your scars did not needlessly color your view of the situation.”

  
Salmae wiped her face while still looking at him, careful to use her unmarked hand to do so. “No. But forgiveness is still not something I’m certain I can do.”

  
“It is yours to give willingly.”

  
“She says the Maker brought her here to seek it.”

  
“Then maybe her Maker her will have her wait for it.”

  
Salmae hadn’t thought of that before. Despite the current upsetting conversation, these insights were why she always appreciated. “Ma serranas, emma lath.”

  
He perked up hearing the elven. “I don’t recall if I heard you say that.”

  
She realized she may not have yet, and was perplexed how long it had taken. “If I haven’t yet, I apologize. It has been true for some time.” Once again she smiled at him. “It seems in times of great stress I realize how fortunate I am to have you here.”

  
“Would it be lazy of me to reply ‘likewise’?”

  
“Hmm, I don’t know. But it is comforting.”

  
The two looked at each other for just a moment before finally letting themselves kiss each other, first soft, then passionate. Despite the fog of sadness that had filled the room, their affections had lifted it almost immediately, and they would have let their affections continue for some time if they did not hear the loud wood door at the bottom of the stairs slam. Damn, Salmae thought, I should have locked that thing.

  
She hid her face in Solas’ chests, hoping not only to hide her embarrassment but that it would ensure her tears would be dry by the time whoever was walking up the stairs reached them. Solas hesitated a bit before deciding that one arm around his love would be appropriate and less awkward than a full embrace. Salmae had to smile. She could hear the gears in his head that had made that decision.

  
Soon she heard Cullen call up and say, “Inquisitor, I wanted to go over some strategic troop disbursement based on what you--” when he stopped himself, she turned to see Cullen almost at the top of the stairs, almost red faced and taken aback. “Inquisitor, um, I apologize if I--”

  
Salmae finally had to laugh, and after a moment she saw Solas was grinning as well, startling Cullen. She stepped away from Solas, certain her face was dry enough to not cause alarm. “Commander, if you need my attention I can be available.”

  
Solas looked to her with some uncertainty. “Should I return...”

  
Without hesitation, Salme confirmed, “Tonight. Yes.” She kissed him on the cheek. He gave her a happily surprised look before retreating down the stairs at a leisurely pace.

  
Cullen stayed on the steps until Solas finally exited out the door on the bottom. “Maker’s breath,” he confessed, “I will be certain to knock next time.”

  
Salmae was glad her complexion was too dark to show her blushing. “Let’s focus on the business at hand, shall we?”

 

 

The next morning, Salmae started the day by meeting Josephine in her office. She sat at her desk reading a letter, not seemingly interested. She perked up seeing her company. “Lady Inquisitor, I am not used to you coming in first thing in the morning.”

  
Salmae grinned. “When I’m gone for three weeks it’s easy to forget I’m a morning person.”

  
“A habit of yours I wasn’t aware of?”

  
She shrugged. “Possible. I’ve been reading more. The library is an easy place to be found.”

  
Josephine smirked. “An easy place to spy on your love?”

  
Salmae shook her head. “That was never my intention, though I may have been guilty of that.” She smiled remembering when she did it most often, right after the kiss in the Fade. She hadn’t admitted that to anyone. “What made you think of that?”

  
“Cullen told us that he forgot one should knock on a woman’s door before entering. It sounded innocent enough but he was mortally embarrassed. You should be happy to know that he will not be doing that again.”

  
The two shared a laugh. Salmae added, “And I’ll be certain to lock my door. Now before my face may actually turn red, I wanted to check in with you to see if anyone was waiting to speak with me.”

  
Josephine looked down to her notes. “Well you already met Lord Percy last night… oh, before I see if there is anyone else, Leliana asked me to remind you about Sister Rebecca.” Salmae could tell there was no joy is sharing that news for the Ambassador. “She had hoped to receive an answer by today.”

  
“I see.” Salmae closed her eyes. She could feel her stomach turning in knots. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue if necessary. It was that everything that was rushing through her now would prevent her to even respond to the Chantry sister.

  
Josephine interrupted her thought process. “If you require, I may speak with her on your behalf.”

  
“This isn’t Inquisition business, though.”

 

“I hope I would be allowed to offer a simple favor for a friend.”

  
Salmae smiled at her. “Thank you, Josephine.”

  
“Certainly. Just let me know what you wish for me to say.”

  
Salmae took a moment to mull it over, then replied, “Let her know that we are both being tested at this time, and when the strength to forgive her comes, I will find her again.”

  
Josephine found a small piece of paper to jot down the statement. “I’m afraid you will be disappointing the sister. She has travelled from far.”

  
Salmae nodded. “If you have to add anything, let her know that I appreciate her journey, but I have to travel my own first.”

  
“Thoughtful and poetic. Someone familiar with the Canticles such as our dear sister should appreciate that. I will let her know soon. Now, you were wondering on who else wishes to speak with you?”

___________________________

Salmae found herself standing in the clearing outside Wycome, once again grey grass and red skies, but this time rain as black as ink drenched her. How fitting of my mood, she thought herself, bemused.

  
She looks around to see beside the old hill was an image of a young elf in gold light, the ground underneath them glowing like embers. As the ground smoldered beneath them they began to sink.

  
Salmae looked down to herself, seeing that both hands had returned to her and she was dressed in the robes of a Keeper in battle. Familiar with the nightmare, Salmae cautiously walked toward the child at the hill. The black rain drenched everything, but the growing hole under the child did not stop.

  
The child finally noticed their predicament and tried to stand up, only to trip on their ankles. It cried out, “Halani ma! Salmae! Halani ma!”

  
Despite knowing how this would end, she quickened her pace and yelled back. “I’m here! I’m coming!”

  
As she jogged over, the earth began to shift under the child and swallow it as a snake would a rat. The child’s screams put chills down her spine and she finally decided to sprint. She watched its golden arms cling to the ground as the burnt maw of the earth drag it inward.

When she was finally close enough she slid to grab the hands outreached, seeing the child’s face glow white with wide-eyed fear. “No!” She insisted. “For once! No!”

As before, the ground won, this time finally taking one last swallow that covered child’s face, but breaking off right before it’s wrists. The ground flattened and Salmae found herself thrown flat on her back, holding two blackened hands that burned her palms.

  
She resisted the urge to scream and sat herself up, turning away from her failure. Through the treeline she saw a shadow of a large wolf, the red eyes focused on her.

  
He still returns, she thought to herself as she cautiously situated herself on her sit bones and look at him, crossing her legs.

  
He stepped forward to reveal himself, fur darkened and wetted. She was surprised to see him yield to her dream this way. Certainly he was powerful enough to look more presentable.

  
After a moment, a rage swelled in her. She took one hand and threw it at him, then the next. In shock he ducked and whimpered as she screamed, “Banal nadas, emma lath!”

  
The wolf looked her over a long while, stooped stature and weary.

  
“Do not think me a fool because I try. Think me a fool when I stop trying. You’re welcome to gawk at my woe, ma vhenan, but do not pity me when I attempt to change it.”

  
The wolf stayed silent.

  
It was either the time to pursue or the time to walk away. Salmae had tried to catch him all those times before. She had longed for his touch and some conversation, some explanation of what was to come next. And now that she had received it, when she had intentionally entered the Fade nights before, she felt herself entirely unsatisfied. He was insistent, like a lone wounded soldier on a blighted field.

  
So was she.

  
They looked each other over for what felt like ages, as the rain grew harder and puddles formed around them. Salmae could tell that he also wondered if to come closer or step away.

  
They stayed like like, her Dread Wolf gazing at her with sorrow, her gazing back with anger, until the dark water reached her ankles, and her dream gave in to waking.

 

 

Salmae found herself tired while walking through Wycome. She focused on the path ahead, walking behind Cullen in simple traveling clothes, a scarf around her head. She held the end of her right arm in her left hand, as if to remind herself that her dream last night did not return her hand to her. She hoped that her low key presentation would prevent anyone from recognizing her. She was not here to remind them of the sins against clan Lavellan, to ask for retribution. She was in no position to do so, nor did she want it. If her plan to save Thedas was to fail, that would be retribution enough. Luckily, the residents didn’t seem phased by this cloaked elf woman following the former Templar down the streets as they continued with their morning chores.

  
They both stopped in front of the tall, stark Chantry cathedral. Realizing they had reached their destination, Salmae took in a deep breath.

  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cullen made it sound like he had an obligation to ask.

  
Salmae nodded, “I have to do this.”

  
“Understood.” With that, he lead them through the heavy door and into the Chantry. As Salmae had seen before, the stone walls were adorned with white candles that lit the hallways. Toward the back she saw a statue of Andraste, standing tall with her hands bound behind her back, as a hearth kept a steady burn beneath her. Tall windows on the second story lined the back walls behind the statue, with the essential figures of the old tales that Salmae had recounted to her before. Being an elven Herald of Andraste meant that every human noble wished to be the first to teach her the significance of their faith. A tedium she relinquished herself to out of necessity. She recognized the morning light shining through Hessarian the Merciful and Maferath the Betrayer, the colors of the glass speckled over the whole room.

  
They were approached by curious sister. “Welcome. You don’t seem to be locals.”

  
“No,” Cullen confirmed, “We’re not. We were wondering if Sister Rebecca still served here in Wycome?”

  
“If you mean Mother Rebecca, I can see if she is available. May I tell her who asks for her.”

  
Salmae interrupted. “Tell her the Inquisitor is here.” She took off her scarf to reveal her face.

  
The lay sister was shocked, and knelt. “Your Reverence, certainly, I will seek her. We are honored to be in your presence.” She quickly stepped up and rushed back and down a side hallway that was tucked away under pillars and offerings.

  
She turned to Cullen. “I’m surprised I still get that response.”

  
He chuckled. “Not everyone has forgotten. That’s probably for the better.”

  
“It should help in this instance.”

  
“You haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  
“Oh, you must not remember then?”

  
“Remember what?”

  
From the hallway she heard a familiar voice call out, “Inquisitor!” She looked back to see now Mother Rebbecca, in the tall hat and gold trimmed robes, look to her with a smile as she walked over and greeted her with a bow.

  
Salmae bowed back. “Mother Rebecca. I’m glad that I did not have to search far to find you.”

  
“I’m pleased as well. Come, let me take you to the balcony. It is a small temple but it’s beauty is apparent a little higher.”

 

 

Salmae heard again the tales of those who adorned the windows and the walls, looking down to the room and appreciating how tall the cathedral was despite not having a lot of depth. Cullen had chosen to kneel in prayer instead of receive the modest tour. Rebecca would keep her reminders of the prominent figures short, and instead focused on the generosity of those who decided to help build the holy structure.

  
“And of course,” she finished, pointing to the large statue of Andraste, “Our centerpiece was granted by the former Duke.”

  
Salmae’s ears perked up. “Former Duke?”

  
“When the Venatori connection was revealed, many of the nobles and artisans felt particularly betrayed. There were probably some dealings and revelations I was not privy to. Within a couple months his distant cousin stepped in. She had substantial support, and apparently has always been a fixture of the upper echelons.” She looked to Salmae and frowned. “I know it is not much justice for your people, but I was glad the Duke was unable to continue to harm anyone else.”

  
“It is good to know that.” Salmae leaned over the bannister.

  
Rebecca only noticed the odd anatomy at that moment. “Dear Maker, what happened to your arm?”

  
Salmae lifted what was left of the marked arm, as if to acknowledge the oddity. “It was the price to pay for all I had to do. And all I have left to do.” She brought it back down. “It’s been over a year, I’ve grown used to it.”

  
Rebecca shook her head. “What a reminder to carry.”

  
Salmae smiled. “It’s actually quite light.” The two shared an awkward laugh that echoed in the stone halls. Cullen looked up curiously, then back to his sacred meditation when Salmae put an embarrassed hand over her mouth.

  
Rebecca followed suit. “As you can see this is home, I find it comfortable. Sometimes I may be too comfortable.”

  
“I would hope Andraste could forgive a giggle.”

  
“She may. Inquisitor, it’s been some time. What has brought you here now?”

  
Salmae straightened her back. “I had originally come to see if there was any evidence of survivors from my clan.” She let the silence settle before continuing. “It seems like some have. I have no idea where any of them went except for one that an associate of mine found a while ago.”

  
“If I or the Chantry could be of any help to you, let me know.”

  
“I have a favor… but first, I come to find you like I promised long ago. The journey I’ve travelled has been testing and treacherous. I’ve come to the point where I can face you and say that I do forgive you, Mother Rebecca.”

  
“Oh,” she looked down to the floor and picked at her nails in embarrassment. “Inquisitor, thank you. I am not deserving of such forgiveness. You did not have to seek me out.”

  
“On the contrary, I must.”

  
“And why would that be?”

  
“Once one forgives a beloved god, it’s easier to put all other trespasses aside.”

  
Rebecca gave her a puzzled look. “To doubt the Maker…”

  
Salmae shook her head. “From what I can tell, I have no ill will toward the Maker.”

  
“Oh. I’m sorry, that was presumptuous of me. Since you had been Andraste’s Herald, I thought you spoke--”

  
Salmae waved her hand dismissively. “It’s a fair place to start. I won’t burden you with the details, but with everything that I’ve endured, I looked back to when you found your way to Skyhold and I appreciate that you recognized the injustice that was done to my people. I understand there was not much you can do to prevent all those who attacked my clan. I find it brave that you sought my forgiveness at all, let alone taking the risk travelling alone.”

  
Rebecca shed a tear that she quickly wiped away. “Inquisitor, I am honored by your words. My heart is guided by the Maker, and the justice he seeks. Unfortunately the elves have suffered much since His Light was shown to us by Andraste.”

  
“They have. I was wondering if you may help with that.”

 

  
“How could I, Inquisitor?”  
Salmae straightened her back. “I know that the Chantry has the Canticles of Shartan as part of their teachings.”

  
“Well, they did. They’ve been advised against in the past.”

  
“I understand that Divine Victoria has allowed them to be studied and practiced again.”

  
“That is true, but a lot of the other clergy are not comfortable with it.”

  
“Oh?”

  
“Revered Mother Tabitha in particular.” Mother Rebecca looked around, and when she saw the main hall was empty, she leaned in toward Salmae and whispered, “She has yet to admit that the attack on your clan was under false pretenses.”

  
Salmae perked up. “But you’ve made it sound like the rest of Wycome is on agreement that it was a Venatori led attack.”

  
“If we stood in other places I would say more. I keep quiet to keep my station here. Not all of the people who seek the Maker’s guidance are ignorant of the hand they dealt aiding the Venatori. The seek me because they know the Maker spoke to me about mercy, and know that I listened and obeyed.”

  
“How long could you stay here if the Revered Mother feels this way?”

  
“If I’m careful, long enough.”

  
“What if I asked you this favor I mentioned?”

  
Rebecca sighed. “I feel the Maker has made me indebted to you, and as Andraste’s Herald you are more inclined to speak toward a holy purpose than most.”

  
Salmae was glad to hear that some still held her in high esteem. “I was hoping if you could help revitalize the Canticles of Shartan. Not just here in Wycome, but across Thedas.”

  
A look of confusion took over Rebecca’s face. “How would I do that?”

  
“I thought someone like you who was brave enough to cross countries by yourself to seek forgiveness would have the strength to spread one of the forgotten stories of Andraste. You may not know entirely why I ask this of you, and I hope you wish not more information. I believe if you are able to help with this, you may be able to help us both answer a higher calling.”

  
For what higher calling than saving the world?

  
They both looked over to the figure of Andraste, standing steadfast behind a wall of fire that would engulf her if it could. Her face addressed the cathedral with a determination and acceptance. She was certain of her destiny.

  
Mother Rebecca drew out a long breath and then smiled, before admitting, “If this weren’t convenient timing with the attitudes within this temple, I would be certain the Maker is continuing to test my faith. I imagine that the test will come up during the journey. I have things to finish here, Inquisitor, but I promise you I will finish them as quickly as possible and heed to this cause.”

  
Salmae smiled. “Thank you. I can make sure you are not taking the journey alone. As peacekeepers the Inquisition is able to aid you with skilled travelers that will accompany you.”

  
The Mother shook her head. “No, I have a couple of people in mind who would be happy to aid me. One young sister speaks of going on an adventure. She would have joined the Grey Wardens had they not made themselves scarce recently. This, however, should whet her appetite, as well as grow her faith. Thank you for the opportunity, Inquisitor. I’m honored you remembered me.”

  
“Likewise.”

  
“Who could forget a woman such as yourself?”

  
“I’ve made myself scarce. In particular here, I did not want to offend with my presence considering all that… happened here.”

  
Mother Rebecca nodded. “If you wish to continue a low presence, I suggest you are off before the afternoon. Again, most of Wycome understands their sin, but I agree a reminder of it would be upsetting.”

  
“We were planning to be off after I met with you.”

  
“I will see you out. I hope that from this conversation, we will be able to see each other again and speak of the fruits of our labor.”

  
Salmae agreed but said nothing. It was either they would speak again, or Thedas would cease to be. She hoped this step would help ensure the former to be the case.


End file.
